


A Johnlock Oneshot

by whovianlord



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 12:36:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16661273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whovianlord/pseuds/whovianlord
Summary: Sherlock hides a head in the fridge to get John’s attention, then uses it to his advantage.





	A Johnlock Oneshot

**Author's Note:**

> I found this little ficlet archived in an email account I used during high school. I apparently wrote it on 11/11/2014 and edited it on 12/11/2014. I was so astounded at finding it that I decided to publish it for the world to see. Definitely the logical thing to do, I think you’d agree? In any case, enjoy the ramblings of my fifteen year old self.
> 
> As always, all comments appreciated. Compliments, criticisms... even if you want me to fuck off. It's all fine.
> 
> \- Mirella xx

"Sherlock? Why is there a head in the fridge?"

"Coagulation of saliva after death."

"A bloody head!"

"Just tea for me, thanks."

"Sherlock!" 

John slammed the fridge door and marched over to the couch on which Sherlock was contorted.

"You're not getting another chance, Sherlock. Head. Fridge. Explain."

"Well, Captain," Sherlock growled. "It seems you have been neglecting me recently. I thought the head might see fit as a reminder of my existence."

John grabbed Sherlock's shirt collar and twisted so that it cut into his neck.

"That is no excuse to leave a bloody head in the fridge!" John yelled. "You had a case and god forbid I try to help you. I was respecting your insistence for bloody silence!" 

Sherlock smiled slyly and lay back onto the couch bringing John down on top of him. 

"Well, then. How the tables have turned," he purred, nipping at John's ear.

He traced his hands up John's back and raked them through his hair.

"Sherlock!" John gasped, jumping up from the sofa. "What are...?"

"Shhh, John." 

Sherlock slid off the couch and stalked over to the doctor, trapping him against the wall. The detective traced his fingers over his thigh. Stroking. Claiming. The muscles tensed and quivered. John shifted his weight and tried to twist away from Sherlock, but he just leaned in closer so their bodies were against each other.

"Sherlock. I don't understand..."

"Stop avoiding in inevitable John. Did you really think I'd miss those lingering stares? Those lingering touches. I know how much you want it... want me. You just need to let go."

"Jesus, Sherlock. If this is just some trick to distract me from the head, I swear..."

During this time, Sherlock had latched himself to John's neck and was quickly creating several marks guaranteed to show later.

"You swear what?" he whispered.

John grabbed Sherlock's hips and pulled them forward so he could feel how hard he was.

"I wouldn't be able to stop."

Sherlock smiled with victory.

"Then don't."

Sherlock pulled himself away and lay back down on the couch, challenging John to respond. The doctor, realising his admission, felt his knees buckle and slid down the wall until he landed in a pile on the floor.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

"Whatever you want," Sherlock replied. "We can pretend this never happened. You can go make yourself a cup of tea and we move on. Or we can acknowledge this and see where it leads...”


End file.
